A Father's Sin
by Jevais
Summary: Raised as Salazar Slytherin's son and heir, Viridis returns to present day Hogwarts to find that history has no recollection of his existence, and that even in death and through time, the name that haunts him is that of a hated enemy, Godric Gryffindor
1. Prologue

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**DISCLAIMER **(note that this will apply to all other chapters from here on out): Ideas borrowed from the Harry Potter series belong solely to J.K. Rowling and her various publishers. Any characters, elements, and phrases that have been previously claimed under a copyright are not being employed for monetary gain. Any other original ideas, however, belong to me.

_A Father's Sin_

**Prologue**

Lucius Malfoy was an imperturbable man.

He was impossible to ruffle at the best of times and only a trifle tickled at the worst.

Yet there was something in the urgent ticking of his inner clock and the tangible one nestled within his fingers that told him, if there ever was a time to panic, now was it.

He struggled to reassume the air of a patiently suffering man.

Lucius, after all, had not forgotten that there was an audience.

"How long?" The gruff voice of his waiting companion startled him from his musings, but he was spared from snipping back an impatient response by the crackle of a messy apparation.

A breath of relief released, the Malfoy rolled out his tense shoulders and let the woman unleash her fury on the deserving fool.

"You're late," Bellatrix hissed, "Is it death that you wish upon yourself? Next time, bypass the Dark Lord and tell _me, _so that I may spare his Lordship of the menial task of doing this world a favour by ridding it of you."

Lucius leveled the cloaked figure a look of condescending vitriol that matched Bellatrix's fevered words, lips curling into a sneer as he surveyed the timorous face plastered with tendrils of wispy, mouse-brown hair.

_This _was their Lord's new pet?

He let out an incredulous scoff but turned sharply into his home without a word, leading those he loathed to call colleagues toward the gaping maw of the ostentatious fireplace in the receiving room.

Only the slight twitching of his eye to betray his nerves, he uttered clearly, "Slytherin Manor."

Snape heard the robed figure next to him swallow nervously once more and discreetly moved his own tongue within the confines of his parched mouth. He suppressed yet another tormented sigh.

The ten Death Eaters including himself that were considered members of Lord Voldemort's Inner Circle had gathered and waited almost three hours in the muted silence. As restless as they were to find out the reason for the summons, asking was naturally not an option in the face of the ever irascible dark lord.

Snape was about to mournfully resign himself to an evening gone to waste when there was a smart rapping on the chamber's entrance: whatever Voldemort was waiting for—and they, by default—was here.

Eyes shifted anxiously towards the shadowed throne on which Voldemort was still, immutable. Those beyond the door knew not to prompt again, and the room was once again plunged into silence.

Slowly, the shadow from the throne extended, and the ashen features of the Dark Lord emerged. Snape almost flinched back at the expression harbored among the lines in the inhuman face as thin lips parted to hiss, "Enter."

Through the door was admitted three arrivals that meandered up to front of the room in desperate haste, bodies tipping humbly towards the ground at the foot of the silver throne.

"My Lord, I beg of you to show restraint and mercy for the wait you have suffered on our behalf. We have failed to be expedient in the task you have been so magnanimous as to bestow upon us." An unmistakable tremble belied the otherwise glibly spoken words.

The circle of Voldemort's followers waited with bated breath while Snape assessed the three newest additions into the room with vengeful indignation.

Only his rotten luck would see Gryffindors detained in Filch's office at that very moment for a good bout of thrashing while instead he was to wait _three bloody hours _in stifling robes and an equally stifling mask for Malfoy, Lestrange and – _Pettigrew_?

His eyes widened fractionally before averting to the ground just beyond the tips of his dragon hide boots.

_What was the weakest link among the cursed Marauders doing in the enemy lair?_

Snape reigned in his occlumency shields while his mind worked furiously to fit puzzle pieces that simply did not belong. _Had the rat been captured? Where the hell was Potter and why did he not protect his—_

A child's cry suddenly split the room awaiting Voldemort's judgment, and conflagrations of curious whispers broke out amongst the Death Eaters. The curse frothing at Snape's lips died in a spectacular show of abstinence and utter, bewildered surprise.

"Silence," Voldemort intoned softly, dangerously, "Bring forth the boy."

Pettigrew hesitated briefly before inching forward, shakily placing the living bundle onto the stone pedestal in front of Voldemort. The Dark Lord inclined forward slowly, his gleaming eyes taking calculating stock of the young child's features.

Whatever he had seen must have satisfied him, because the wand tip peeking surreptitiously from the sleeve of his wand arm withdrew completely.

"Make no mistake, Pettigrew, that you will be punished for your inefficiency. But, I suppose, that particular transaction can wait…you have, after all, successfully brought the boy to me."

Snape's eyes flew up in surprise. Keeping his head angled to the ground, he squinted for a better look at the child on the pedestal. _No, _he thought fervently, _it couldn't be. _

A scant few months ago, Voldemort, in a rare fit of gregariousness, had revealed to the Inner Circle about the prophecized child that was to bring his untimely downfall. He had only been distantly bemused at the time when the Dark Lord relayed the identity of the boy to be none other than the detestable James Potter's child.

_What was the boy's name… Gary? Larry? Harry? _

But if Dumbledore was correct—and the old coot was somehow always right on the money—the boy would be instrumental in the upcoming resistance against Voldemort's reign of terror. If he was eliminated now….

"You are all here to witness, tonight, the death of one Harry James Potter." Voldemort brandished his wand with a lethal flick of his wrist.

"A woman of divination," He paused to sneer, "reported that this child was allegedly to be the cause of my demise."

His red eyes flashed with morbid amusement before he continued, his whisper low and dark, "Watch, my death eaters, and testify that _no one_, prophesized or not, _will ever be able to stop me_."

He leveled his wand expertly and with its tip, almost tenderly brushed away the already grown bangs of the infant. With perverse fondness and almost regret, Tom Riddle watched the luminous eyes of the would-be threat to his dominion and uttered, "Avada Kedavra."

A sudden burst of incandescent light flooded the dreary chamber, and a powerful magical surge swallowed and regurgitated every person in the room, leaving every Death Eater, including Voldemort, tossed and winded on the floor.

Voldemort snarled, roughly pocketed his scorching wand and collected himself in the way only a dark lord could. Heads whipped disconcertedly to the pedestal where the child was lying only seconds before.

Harry Potter was gone.

-End Prologue-

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	2. Slytherin

**EmeraldSeaFrost**: I hope you'll be happy to note that they're alive and well.

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**Fire** **Dolphin**: Here it is!

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_A Father's Sin_

**Chapter 1** **Slytherin**

"_It is not flesh and blood but the heart that makes us fathers and sons." - Johann Schiller _

They had argued again.

He had lost his temper and she had cried.

Presently, she was lost in her broodings by her customary thinking spot in the remotest of corners in her private quarters. There were bay windows here, through one of which her unseeing eyes stared listlessly out into the night.

The moonlight slanted in through the glass and clashed discordantly against her pale skin. She looked ashen, almost gray in the white-washed light. There was no expression on her face to lessen the severity of her appearance.

As she nursed the cup of chrysanthemum tea and its saucer in her hands, the glassware clattered and grated against each other gracelessly. She noticed, then, with a touch of indifference that her fingers were trembling.

It had all become something of a sadistic routine.

Two years into her married life, she had not spent a day without regretting her decision.

Back then, everything had fallen deceitfully into place. He had proposed to her, and she had accepted. Who was she to refuse this handsome, affluent and influential man?

But the true selling point had been that he sincerely loved her and still did. And that was all that would matter, she had thought. Her mother's personal mantra was that the man who loved you _could_ make you happy in the way that the man you loved _would_ not.

She had never known the sage matriarch to stand corrected.

Until now.

Her shakily exhaled breath disturbed the steadily ascending steam from her tea, and the hands raising the cup to her lips faltered in their actions.

Below, a tall hooded figure disrupted the still and tranquil scene of Hogwarts' grounds. The man's smooth, powerful gait was not lost on her; it was one that she could recognize a mile away.

Though they were not nearly on the best of terms, the figure _was, _after all, her husband and long time friend before that.

It had been this past attachment that she had clung to with every fibre of her being. Time and time again she had consoled herself, deluded herself into thinking their marriage harmonious, by recalling all the good memories that they'd shared as children.

But no longer.

As scandalized as the wizarding society would be, she would divorce herself from this man and… and then what?

She had had grand goals of academic and societal achievements as a child; in the centre of that plan, however, were a happy marriage and a family. Fiercely intelligent and almost deplorably dedicated to her studies, she had honed herself to become the kind of woman she'd envisioned herself to be in her childhood aspirations and had thus become what she was today.

Turned out, she had succeeded in everything but the very core of it all.

How could she have been so foolish and naïve?

Her hands revived themselves once more and she sipped carefully on her tea, eyes still trained on the lone figure of her husband that plunged through the unruly forest's periphery.

He would not return for a while yet, and when he did, she would break things off for good.

Eyes flickering closed, she tore herself away from the window to settle with outwardly calm onto a nearby chair.

She needn't worry over him begging her to stay.

Salazar Slytherin would never even entertain the idea of groveling. Even for her.

Besides, once he caught wind of what she had done–the horrible crime that she had committed against him–he would no longer covet her presence anyway.

Rowena's lips curled upwards, bitterly and mirthlessly. The numb smile ill-suited her delicate features.

And she sat in the shadows, wallowing in her cold uncertainty as she waited, the heavy ticking of the magical clock pounding the seconds by until her husband's return.

Salazar Slytherin was furious.

_Women_, he thought, as he drew his sword to fell the offending branch of a wayward pine, _were the most infuriating, conniving, manipulative_….

He sent an acromantula skidding into the nearest bush with a well-placed snarl.

Cloak bellowing out behind him, he sheathed his sword and stalked towards the heart of the forest. The shadows themselves pulled away from his crackling aura and bushes parted as he spread his magic ahead of him to fashion himself an unobstructed path.

He knew exactly where he wanted to be, and it wasn't here at Hogwarts where his wife was fuming in her self-righteous anger.

So when his senses detected that he'd exceeded the extent of Hogwarts' apparation barrier, a sigh of relief brushed past his parted lips. He thrust his magic forward, the image of his manor in mind, to temporarily disable the protective wards around his own residence in preparation for his return.

A moment later, he found his feet connecting gently with the pristine marble floor of his study.

The room was just as he had left it when he had departed for Hogwarts at the beginning of term. The house elves knew to clean around, above, and below the items in the chamber.

Salazar Slytherin, after all, was a precise man, and his manor reflected that; nothing was to change without his express permission.

Yet even this familiarity failed to reassure him as it always did.

The solace that he had believed would be rendered upon his arrival dissipated much like the morning mist developing on the other side of his window.

And his mind continued to summersault uncontrollably within itself, still frustrated and restless.

It was with this inability to quell his frothing despair that had him on the move again, pushing aside the opulent double doors into the hallway where he promptly followed a winding, richly carpeted path towards the dueling room several floors below.

The fire swaying in the torches hissed as he passed, as if bowing in welcome at his return. Paintings hushed their murmur in solemn respect.

He slowed by a stone door inlaid with protective, intricate runes only long enough to roughly shed his traveling cloak. At his unspoken command, the door groaned apart to reveal the dueling hall.

His father had trained in these walls, and his grandfather before him. This was where the Slytherin men had perfected their dueling skills, one of the many aptitudes for which they were revered and lauded.

Charcoal grey eyes traced the accustomed space as he settled in the centre of the cavernous chamber and slid into a meditative stance. Eyelashes fluttered closed then snapped back open. A faint tingling at the edge of his senses had made him pause.

Severe eyebrows creased in astonishment as Salazar felt the wards around his manor press inwards.

Something was seeking its way in.

And not knowing what in existence could penetrate the wards his forefathers had established, he was momentarily stunned by the sheer impossibility of the situation until a burst of blinding light jerked him free of his chagrinned musings.

With his wand already trained on the intruding source, Salazar let his magic flare forward to assess the threat. It was only when he noted with no sparse amount of askance that his impromptu visitor had a benign aura did he allowed himself to relax enough to blink away the vestiges of the light still dancing in his eyes.

The tidal wave of energy and light had been extinguished instantaneously, leaving a lone traveler in their wake.

Salazar visibly gathered himself and flicked his wand to levitate the small, squirming bundle towards him.

_It was crying_, he observed with mounting alarm. _Why was it crying? _

He noted distantly that he was indeed fortunate to be without companion; the sheer bewilderment his face was probably broadcasting would have been just embarrassing.

When the infant floated close enough for him to peer over what was in his opinion a ghastly shade of periwinkle blankets, charcoal eyes narrowed to search the child's face in the unlit chamber.

The baby blinked guilelessly at him in the darkness, the tears pooled around his eyes already forgotten as his face broke into a disarming, toothless smile.

The Slytherin could only stare in incredulous stupefaction. _**This**__ was what had broken past defences that had guarded the Slytherin manor for centuries? A mere babe?_

The infant must have been impatient at his lack of response because he gurgled pleasantly in what Salazar hazarded to be a greeting.

Just then, the clouds parted in the sky beyond the windows, admitting through a shaft of wane moonlight that slithered into the room and illuminated the child's face.

Salazar took sight of the boy's eyes in an instant and the cold wizard could not begrudge himself a slow, albeit reluctant smile.

However displeasing the colour scheme of the child's blanket, the boy had beautiful eyes – deep and bright and so intensely emerald that they sparkled with a light of their own.

A smile to her lips, Rowena sighed with a contentedness and warmth that she had not even realized that she'd missed until now.

Her emphatic eyes swirled with affection as they gazed fixedly into the face of the slumbering infant. The babe himself was swathed in blankets that she had had custom-made and placed in a crib several hours earlier that evening.

She stood vigil beside him ever since.

There was no need for her presence, of course; the child was simply sleeping and only that. But if he awoke crying, she desired with an unnatural, overwhelming pang to be there to appease him.

She could not believe that only a few weeks had been sufficient make one so attached to another being, however special and adorable that other was.

Yet here she was. Here _they _were.

Salazar had presented the infant to her the night of their vicious, turbulent disagreement. When the man had returned to the quarters they shared at Hogwarts, a bundle nestled with uncharacteristic tenderness in his arms, Rowena had realized the change in atmosphere immediately.

Her determination to end their relationship had instantly obliterated with just one glance into the child's eyes.

They had mutually agreed to raise him as their own, possessed and giddied by the future that the child promised.

And she had decided to give the relationship another go. Perhaps she could salvage her dream of having a family after all.

She was, after all, a high-achiever.

Pulling herself away from the newly furnished nursery in the Slytherin manor, Rowena traipsed down the hall towards Salazar's chambers. She gently pushed the door ajar and entered the sleeping quarters of her husband, a discomfiting weight in her mind as she scanned the room.

She had never encountered a more austere, self-disciplined man.

His bedroom was practical and served its purpose. There was a bed, a shelf of various books, a gilded mahogany desk with neatly arranged paperwork and a lone window shaded with green and silver-trimmed curtains.

The items were few in number and simple to a fault, though undisputedly expensive and elegant.

They had not shared the same sleeping quarters since their marriage had been on the rocks, and she inhaled the subtle, masculine and unsettlingly foreign scent of her husband that lingered in the air.

It was oddly electrifying.

Before she could back out of her own decision, she took off her outer night gown and pressed herself onto the silken sheets of his bed. Her eyes closed reluctantly.

Sleep had almost taken her when the door to his room opened once more, and the figure of her husband framed the doorway, silhouetted by the dim torchlight in the halls.

She propped herself up on her arms and slowly–hesitantly–raised herself. Trepidation gnawing at her pounding heart, she shouldered off the thin straps of her nightgown.

Salazar's face was inexplicable.

"Salazar," She breathed, "Come to bed."

Neither spoke in the silence that ensued, and his charcoal eyes never left her face. Something akin to comprehension danced across the fine angles of his features and with an almost inaudible sigh, he stepped forward and closed the door behind him.

In one swift motion, he had her trapped in his arms, and they kissed with awkward fervor in the darkness.

Her lips, Salazar would never forget, were cold.

"Master Viridis! Master, where are you?"

The middle-aged retainer with scraggly blond hair and weary gray eyes doubled over his knees in defeat. He inhaled greedily and nursed the stitch in his side. As young as he was by wizarding standards, he felt nearly twice his age each time the first-born Slytherin ran him through the gutter like this.

Why couldn't he have been put in charge of managing the younger of the two Slytherin children, who was only four and couldn't escape nearly as swiftly?

Ah, but Master Filius would also grow, and he would soon be six, just as Master Viridis was now. Then, he would be the one enjoying the suffering of Filius' retainer. He couldn't wait until the tables were turned. Until then…

"Master Viridis? _Please_, where are you?"

_Oh sod it_, he sighed in exasperation: when Viridis was determined to do something, not even Master Slytherin senior could stop him. Shade chalked it up to a lost cause and headed for the manor, head hanging as he imagined relaying to Mistress Rowena that Master Viridis had fallen off the face of his radar.

Again.

"Now listen, Filius. This is a basilisk egg. It's almost ready to hatch so you don't go near it, you hear?"

"Basiliss?'

Viridis grinned at his younger brother and patted him fondly, "Basilis_k_."

Filius' tongue floundered as he continued to stare down at the egg with the same fascination as did his brother.

The egg quivered just as it had been for the past day or so, and by now, all that trembling was not as impressive as it had been initially to the impatiently waiting boys.

Filius grumbled each time the egg settled back to its dormant state after a bout of shivering.

"Viriiiiiidis, how long 'til the basiliss comes out?"

"Basilisk," He reminded his brother, distractedly, "and I estimate another half-hour should do it."

The younger boy pulled out his lower lip in a show of discontent but shuffled closer to his brother just in case, as another superficial crack joined its brethren on the surface of the spherical, oversized egg.

"You can just tell that this one's going to be impressive, though. And like I said, Filius, don't look into its eyes when it hatches. Young basilisks aren't yet lethal, but one glance into its eyes will knock you out like a _stupefy _would for a few hours."

Filius scrunched up his button nose but nodded, "Mhm."

True to Viridis' prediction, the egg began to shudder violently until the crevices on the surface deepened and yielded with an audible crack thirty minutes later.

The boys watched with bated breath; and Filius ducked his head to avoid the squirming creature's glassy stare, just as he had promised.

Viridis, however, persisted, his eyes fixated with inexorable intensity on that of the snake.

For an untold second, neither seemed ready to submit until Viridis opened his mouth and _hissed._ The basilisk swayed momentarily as if it were as mystified as Filius was then willingly extracted itself from the remains of its previous home to coil around Viridis' proffered hand.

"Viridis?" Filius tentatively lifted his head and watched the exchange, confused and frightened for his brother's physical and now mental well-being. As always, however, he trusted Viridis down to a T, and if his brother said he knew what he was doing, then he did.

A victorious grin dusting his lips, Viridis clasped the younger boy reassuringly on his shoulder.

"We did it," He said – and promptly fainted.

"I'm sorry, mother."

"Viridis Merlin Slytherin, what have I told you about experimenting with dangerous animals?" Rowena glowered down at her oldest son who was currently occupying his own bed and being injected with every known healing and pepper-up potion under the sun.

She reached forward to lay a tender hand on his forehead to check his temperature, contrary to her stern words.

"I know, I'm sorry." He turned mournful, wide eyes in her direction.

When she sighed resignedly, he knew that he had her.

"Should there ever be a repeat performance of such reckless behavior, I will have your father—what am I saying? There undoubtedly will be," Rowena tapped her son's nose smartly, "Just stay out of and do not cause trouble, especially of the cataclysmic sort. If you give Shade any more grief, that's one month void of dueling and weapon sparring."

His emerald eyes widened at her threat and he hastened to accept her terms that were as favourable as could be under the circumstances; of course, father would never allow him to skip an entire month's worth of dueling and sparring lessons, but she would certainly make good on her promise to prevent him from attending at least a week of them.

While the disapproving stare of his mother continued to tunnel a hole through his broadly smiling face, he benevolently stroked the slumbering baby basilisk curled around his bicep. He knew father would secretly approve of this adventure.

Satisfied with this conclusion, he leapt from the bed to dab a wet kiss onto his mother's cheek before bolting out of the room to find Filius who would undoubtedly be pining for news of his older brother.

"Viridis Slytherin, cease your foolish meanderings and march yourself back into bed right this instant!"

"I promise I'm fully recovered, mother!" He paused just long enough to holler this over his shoulder before sprinting down the hallway and out of sight.

Rowena rebelled futilely against the smile that threatened to break out onto her face. Only her Viridis would manage to make a basilisk submit to his will.

Only Viridis–only her incorrigible son.

It was so not my intention to end things here. Funny where madness and evil twins of your regular plot bunnies can take you.

**Preview** – because you've been patient, and I couldn't resist.

"…_..Why can't you be more like – " Her breath hitched as she stopped abruptly, turning away before she could continue._

"_What? Why can't I be more like what? Say, it, Rowena. We both know you want to. You wanted to say why I couldn't be more like him – like Gryffindor!"_

"_Stop, Salazar, I didn't mean – "_

"_Yes you did mean it, __**wife**__," The bottles of wine next to him shattered as he thundered on, "All these years you've been married to me; you wished you were married to __**him**__." _


	3. Viridis

I'm back. Fanfare? Marching band? Where's the love, ladies and gents? I know, I know, you're more likely saying Final-fucking-ly. Three years isn't too bad—could've been four. Eh, because I've made you wait so long, I'll reduce the scrolling time and just get on with it. Review responses are below.

P.S. I've added a preview for the next chapter, 'cuz who knows when I'll get to updating next? I KID, luvs, hold your rotten tomatoes.

_A Father's Sin_

**Chapter 2: Viridis**

"_Don't hold your parents up to contempt. After all, you are their son, and it is just possible that you may take after them."_ – Eveyln Waugh

"_Salazar," She began, angry words forgotten, "A child - ?"_

_Rowena's sea-green eyes swung between her husband's face and the bundle that he handed to her with care. _

_Her legs failed her as she settled back into the chair she had risen from only moments before, and trembling digits touched a soft cheek illuminated by the moonlight. The infant giggled despite his weariness and latched onto her index finger with surprising strength. _

_Salazar wordlessly stared down at the boy, an inexplicable look in his eyes._

"_No," He hesitated, "_Our _child." _

_Her face went slack with surprise. _

"_He slid through the wards around the manor… as if the very air itself had fashioned him and brought him in. I… potions reveal that he's 457 days old, which means – "_

"_July 31st," She offered automatically, "He was born on the 31st of July."_

_The baby in her arms squirmed as if he knew what they were discussing, and he gurgled gravely at them before easing into slumber. Through a daze, Rowena realized that the boy still had her finger pressed against his plump cheeks._

_She cleared her throat. _

"_But surely the boy must belong to someone…. He couldn't have just appeared out of thin air! We can't keep him."_

_Even to her own ears, her protests were half-hearted and weak. Already the soft voice in the back of her mind asked, Why not?_

_Why not, indeed._

_Maybe, just maybe…she'd be able to live without regretting her marriage, her life, her choices for every single waking second of the day and even the ones spent in fitful dreams at night. Maybe, she and this little boy. . .and Salazar could become a family. _

_Salazar watched the emotions flickering on his wife's face, his heart thundering in his chest. A small smile tipped her lips upwards and he struggled to keep his hand from reaching out to touch her face. _

_With restraint, he refocused his attentions on the little bundle in her arms, watching the child's chest rise and fall rhythmically. _

_So tiny, he mused, so fragile. _

_And at that moment, something inside of him clicked. _

_Salazar Slytherin never did anything on a whim, but he allowed himself this one tiny exception, just this once. _

"_What are we going to name him, Salazar?"_

_Salazar couldn't remember that her voice had ever been so warm. _

_Rowena's eyes met his in the darkened room and she thought she saw something that she hadn't seen in a long time – his smile. _

"_Viridis," He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Viridis like the colour of his eyes." _

_The name rolled off her tongue as if water on rock. _

"_Viridis."_

"So…you're going to call her Nagini?"

Filius peeked at the basilisk coiled around Viridis' arm with only a spot of interest and liberal doses of trepidation.

From afar, Rowena paused mid-sentence to watch her children, a slender finger marking the page in the book she was reading. Viridis was now emphatically describing the properties of a basilisk's fang to his younger brother.

Despite that Viridis wasn't a Slytherin by blood, she surprised herself with how often she forgot that he wasn't a physical product of their marriage. The boy walked and talked as a miniature version of her husband; tall, proud, refined, and as silly as this adjective was on a six year old child, _powerful_.

Even his physical features were somewhat convincingly Slytherin. The black locks, for one. Yet there was also something unmistakably Ravenclaw in the boy; the intelligent gleam in his emerald eyes, and the unusually high, aristocratic cheekbones that were a trademark of her blood.

"Another addition to Viridis' menagerie, I see."

She angled her head back toward the voice in surprise; she had neither felt nor heard his approach through her thoughts.

"Back so soon, Salazar?"

Attuned to his father's magic in the way that Rowena never was, Viridis' green eyes were already locked with the charcoal black of Salazar's. An infectious smile rapidly spread over his face as he dashed forward, breathlessly careening to a halt in front of the tall, imposing figure.

"Father," He inclined his head formally, a clandestine smile at the corners of his lips, "I trust your trip was fruitful."

The older Slytherin responded in a cool voice, "Just as, I know, your training and studies have been kept up with."

A moment passed, and an unspoken agreement between the two Slytherins later, Viridis launched himself enthusiastically into his father's arms.

Filius, too, shyly shuffled forward, bowing in a clumsy imitation of his older brother.

"Welcome back, father."

Salazar nodded his greeting, uttering a soft "Filius," before setting Viridis back down onto the floor.

As Filius inched forward to join the reunion, an irritated Nagini that was awoken abruptly by Viridis' jostling snapped angrily in the younger boy's direction.

"_Nagini, no_!"

Viridis immediately set Nagini down and hissed his annoyance, forcing her back in contrition.

"Fil, you alright? Nagini didn't mean it."

The younger boy managed a timorous smile under the affectionate hand of his brother ruffling his hair, neither noticing the stunned looks his parents were sharing over their heads.

"Ah-Viridis," Salazar recovered, "What does Nagini say?"

Viridis turned subdued eyes upon his father, confused at the intent behind his question. "She's apologetic, of course, father. She's usually much more dignified. Do you remember the runespore that ate the pixies pollinating Aunt Helga's floral patch? I managed to coax him out with the simple promise of a garden gnome. Nagini would never have settled for such an unfavorable transaction!"

"I….see. And how long have you been able to converse with snakes?"

The boy laughed, "Since forever! You tell me stories about grandpapa from the journals all the time, father. The ones with the squiggly writing—I can feel the magic in the words. Everyone knows mere English holds no such depth!"

Salazar felt his chest clench. _No, son, not everyone._

"Viridis, Filius, why don't you two go out to the grounds and enjoy the sun while it's out, hm?" Rowena offered her two boys a warm smile as she dismissed them, eyes severe as they bore into her husbands'.

A tense silence settled in the sound gap left by the children.

"I – he's a speaker."

Rowena's delicate voice held a distinct note of disbelief that Salazar would never show but felt nonetheless.

"I thought…"

Salazar clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace the room, "It is."

"But we know… I mean Viridis isn't…he is, but…" Rowena breathed in sharply and started again, "Viridis is our son in everything but blood. Yet how did he inherit a gift passed down only to the Slytherin first-born heir? I… unless… Salazar, you didn't, not without me—and he's much too young!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and roughly shed his traveling cloak. "Of course I didn't."

"Then how?"

Salazar's pacing found him by the window, and he looked through it with a pensive gaze. His wife's question was one that which he himself was deliberating on that very moment.

When they had adopted Viridis, Salazar had chosen to make him the Slytherin heir, despite Rowena's subsequent pregnancy with Filius. It was clear to all that Viridis was a mentally and magically gifted child, Slytherin magic or not.

Being that the Slytherin and Ravenclaw lines were so magically prominent, the parents had decided to transfer all magics and traits that, to a naturally conceived and birthed child, would have been inherited by blood to Viridis in a ritual. The absence of these traits would have been otherwise noticed and speculated on. And such scandal enveloping not one but two of magic's oldest and revered lines would have caused upheavals in their wizarding society, conservative and traditional as it was.

Beyond the intense complexities and complications of the actual ritual itself, the only challenge for the talented couple was that the ritual could not be performed until the recipient was physically capable of ingesting and merging with the incoming magics. Observing Viridis coming into his own abilities even as a toddler, the pair estimated that their son would be eligible by his seventh year.

Yet that Viridis was only six but had just displayed a singularly Slytherin gift without such rituals was unsettling at best.

Salazar's eyes found his two sons lurking around the stables below, the taller of the pair offering the freshly-hatched basilisk coiled around his forearm to his younger brother in a persistent attempt at reconciliation.

A chilling thought weighed down his otherwise blindingly intense pleasure at his heir, the boy he truly saw as his son, speak the language of his forefathers.

_Whose blood did Viridis actually carry in his veins?_

"I didn't know snakes conversed with each other the way they do, Father. But Nagini tells me the most interesting things!"

A polished long table groaning under a massive array of delicacies occupied a marble room topped by a high-vaulted ceiling, filled with unobtrusive music composed of Rowena's favourite wind instruments. At the head of each table sat the Slytherin patriarch and his wife, and to his right was his elder son with his younger on his left.

From her solitary end of the table, Rowena eyed her men with a fond smile.

Viridis really was a replica of his father, even in his table manners. His posture was regal, movements efficient, and his mouth never opened until after he had swallowed. Yet despite the restraint in his actions, the voice of her older son that carried towards her was every bit the child that he was.

His audience, stoic in outward appearance, was gazing at him with indulgent eyes. In dealing with anyone or anything, Salazar Slytherin had the utmost control. The moment he was in Virids' presence, his eyes, if nothing else, betrayed him.

Albeit an awkward husband, she decided Salazar to be an excellent father. He might have even been perfect, if only he would give Filius the time day.

She frowned into her plate, a shadow passing across her features as she glanced towards the younger boy.

He had always been a frail little thing. A boy of four years was expectedly small, but he was especially diminutive for his age, and next to his tall older brother, Filius was often dwarfed.

Filius was a brilliant boy in his own right, but was always overshadowed by the older brother he looked up to so much.

Viridis also—however unintentionally—monopolized their father's affections.

She feared that that was one monopoly that Filius would not be able to handle his brother having.

Even from across the table, she could see the longing look in Filius' eyes as they shyly flicked upwards to his father.

Dinner ended when the Slytherin patriarch rose from his seat. Salazar and Viridis exited the dining hall with Filius following in their tails; Rowena placed a Jasmine leaf under her tongue to cleanse her palette, and uttered a soft request for tea to be delivered to the drawing room, where she knew her family to be headed.

"I've brought something for you, Viridis."

By the time Rowena rejoined her family, Salazar was handing their son an oblong velvet box. From the silver clasps and hinges in the design of coiled basilisks, she knew the gift to be an heirloom.

Her eyes flitted worriedly over to Filius once more.

Viridis fingered the lock with reverence; he had come to the same conclusion as she. He hissed in the language she'd never understand, heard the lock submit to his whispers, and watched as he gently, religiously, peeled open the lid.

Inside lay twin daggers with silver hilts where snakes, carved with such intricate design that the crease between each scale glinted in the light, coiled at the base. Microscopic attention to detail had produced each snake with its own pair of emerald encrusted eyes.

"Father!" Viridis enthused, and the soft touch of his father's hand at his neck told him his gratitude had been well-received.

"You have uncovered the Slytherin gift that manifests in the firstborn heir. I am proud of you, my son."

Despite her and Filius' presence, she knew the moment as a private one between them. The delight in Viridis' countenance made her glow with similar content, yet the lone figure of the younger boy standing timidly off in the sidelines made her pause.

And as if her husband had sensed her disapproval, he turned towards Filius. Hesitantly, as if he lacked the practice, Salazar brushed back the boy's ebony bangs.

The grin that split Filius' face had Salazar's hand lingering for a few more moments.

"Come on Filius, let's go show these to Dariax; I'm going to try and convince him to speed up my weapons lessons so that we can incorporate the twin daggers!"

She entered the room fully, her tea in hand as she folded herself into the chair nearest the windows. Salazar wordlessly accompanied her as a wine glass materialized into his waiting fingers.

"I hadn't the chance to ask, but how is business at Hogwarts? I've been so wrapped up in the children—I hope Helga and Godric do not think poorly of my recent decision to stay home."

Salazar closed his eyes briefly, his only sign of weariness. He sipped contemplatively at his wine before answering, "Does Helga tell of you Gryffindor's idea regarding the standard of admission?"

"I—yes. Salazar, I cannot think poorly of his suggestion at all. Accepting all students based on their magical potential is only sensible."

"Just because one is capable of magic, does not qualify one to be able to wield it!"

Rowena carefully chose her words, knowing Salazar's sensitivity towards muggle-borns. He had cause to be wary, vengeful, even.

"An isolated example of their cruelty should not deny innocent children—"

"Do not speak of that which you do not know! This topic is forbidden for discussion."

His cold words dug deeply, and tears sprang in her eyes as she spat, "Do not be so atrociously selfish! They're children, Salazar. Why can't you be a little more giving—loving? For Merlin's sake, of course you wouldn't be. You're hardly civil to Filius, your own son! Sometimes, I just can't help but wonder why you couldn't be more like—" Her breath hitched.

He rounded up on her silence, charcoal eyes burning, "Say it, Rowena. Say it."

"Stop, Salazar, I didn't mean—"

"Yes you did mean it, _wife_," The bottles of wine next to him shattered as he thundered on, "All these years you've been married to me; you wished you were married to _him." _

When he could take no more of the silence that stretched and thinned out between them, Salazar swept out of the room, and in the wake of his departure, Rowena leapt from her chaise and into the floo.

"Gryffindor manor!"

In the silence of the drawing room, Viridis' yet adolescent fingers clenched the silver hilts of the twin daggers. He emerged from the shadowed corner in which he had been hiding, numb.

Of course, there was naught but to follow her.

**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

Veronik: Viridis? Why yes. I'm glad you found the story original – hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Marissa: Sorry it took me so long!

Irving: I'm glad you like it so much.

EelvenGirl: Will do.

Loxodonta-Magica: I'm really glad you think so—I adored writing that bit as well!

TheOneThatIsAddictedToHPfic: I hope this chapter won't disappoint. Thanks for reviewing.

Disgruntled: Apologies, apologies

C_andlelight: Here it is.

ARGH: Sorry for the wait!

FF-loverHP1: ah…thanks?

Kyuubi-Sama: Thank you!

Dmister: He'll be back in the present time by the time chapter 8 or 9 comes around. Ish. As for your age bracket question, I assume that referring to the age of admission/graduation, etc. If so, then yes, age requirements will be kept consistent. And the Basilisk….I'll leave that one for you to sit on.

SakuraWolf11: I'm glad I've indulged in that preview since you seem to have enjoyed it. Thanks for sticking with this!

nikkila: Aw, shucks.

Sexy fox 101: I love the way he gets to be Harry's dad, too ;)

Kaylen Cooper: If I ever? I hope you'll be happy to note that I did!

I'S Watcher: Such lack of faith. If you'd checked my author's profile, you would've known otherwise! But yeah, I know. Three bloody years. Shame on me.

Sage-serenity: Dayum. I knew someone would catch that ;) I kept my promise this time around, though!

Olaf74: Shucks, you sure know how to motivate a pathologically lazy writer to get off her ass and type her fingers off. I hope to continuously surprise you in the near future.

LadyEnvy13: *spreads arms open* TADA! I wouldn't abandon this baby. I'll finish it, I promise.

**To all of my reviewers, thanks so much. As I've said, it's fantastic to know that someone is deriving entertainment from my work and is kind enough to express it. I really appreciate it! **

PREVIEW:

"Rowena," He continued in that deep, soothing voice which Viridis was quickly coming to dislike, "You have Viridis and Filius to think about. Are you willing to forfeit your relationship with your sons? No, of course not – they're all you talk about. You have too much to lose if you come to me."

Viridis clamped his eyes shut, willing his ears to do the same. That man, with his honeyed voice and warm eyes, was so incongruous to his own father and his sharply sculpted features. Viridis wanted to hate, hate him so much. So he did.

But in the next instant, digesting his mother's spoken words, he felt….nothing.

"Godric. . . he's. . .he's not. . .he's not Salazar's."

A terrible silence, and then, "Speak true, Rowena. Who's not—"

"He's yours."

**That was completely a female-dog move. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'd be totally lying. See y'all soon!**


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